


Knit One, Pearl Two

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-10-07 03:30:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10351350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: Warnings: Umm... bad jokes????Spoilers: "Ascension", a little bit, "Red Sky" and "Solitudes" very, veryvaguelySummary: You know, Jack should really, really watch what he says.Folks might take him seriously *EG*





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

Knit One, Pearl Two

Knit One, Pearl Two

By

Denise

The sterile, beautifully gray military issue corridors of the SGC were awash with garish psychedelic color. And Jack had a bad feeling that it was all his fault.

He passed Technician Alberts at an intersection, ignoring the man's pained look as he picked at the magenta colored sweater that clashed magnificently with his olive drab green pants.

It was the tenth such sight he'd seen since entering the facility.

He swiped his card in the reader to summon the elevator. Twenty bucks the sudden appearance of sweaters in the SGC had something to do with his summons to the general's office.

Climbing the steps into the control room he spied Sergeant Davis sitting at his accustomed console. "Is the general in his office?"

The man turned, absently scratching at the apparently irritating wool of the chartreuse cardigan he was wearing. "He's waiting for you sir," he replied in a cold voice.

Jack nodded and headed for the spiral stairs feeling like he was headed towards Anise's private quarters for a little la moosh… whatever the hell she called it.

He knocked on the door and at the general's invitation, entered the room. What he saw literally took his breath away.

He squinted and wished vainly for his sunglasses. The portly general was seated behind his regal oak desk, the neon yellow of his sweater reflecting the overhead lighting in a way that rivaled the normal sheen of his bald pate.

"Wow! General, that's aah…that's quite…"

"This is precisely what I wish to speak to you about colonel. Have a seat," he said, gesturing regally with one hand. The effect was diminished slightly when the sleeve of his neon lemon sweater flopped down over his hand to dangle limply.

With a resigned sigh, the general pushed the sleeve up. Jack noted that the other sleeve was correspondingly short, coming to rest somewhere between the man's wrist and elbow.

"Sir?" Jack asked, hoping he'd injected the right amount of innocence into his voice.

"Colonel, several weeks ago, before your vacation by the way, did you or did you not instruct, no order, a member of your team to 'knit something'?"

"Umm…well maybe sir…I aah…"

"So," Hammond jumped on the half admission with the fervor of a chick on a June bug, "Do you have any idea the mess you have created?"

"General? What's wrong with a little knitting?"

"A little? Colonel, there is not a member of this command who has not been approached about a sweater. Before the sweaters it was scarves and booties. Major Kovacek tripped over a six-foot long muffler and broke his leg in three places. While confined to the infirmary he was gifted with a large variety of cast warmers to keep his toes warm. Cassandra refuses to speak to the major after she knitted her three skirts, then cried when the girl refused to wear them. Doctor Fraiser has four people confined to the infirmary suffering from wool induced allergic reactions, including Doctor Jackson. And I've just received word that the commissary has been over run with homemade potholders and tea cozies.

"Added to that fact that there is a back log of alien devices waiting for the major to back engineer to find out what they do and I have three missions on hold indefinitely because they all need naquadah reactors and she refuses to take a break from her knitting to make any," the man ranted, his voice growing more and more exasperated.

"General, sir…all I did was suggest that she take up a hobby. You were there. It was your idea. You said you were worried about her obsessing with her work."

George sighed again and reached into his desk drawer. He pulled out a bright yellow object and placed it on his head. The stocking cap slid down almost over his eyes and a long tail flopped over his shoulder, the bright purple pom-pom on the end a perfect counterpoint to the field of yellow. As Jack watched the man flushed, his broad face turning a brilliant shade of red.

"Colonel O'Neill, either this will stop or I will have no choice but to have her relieved from duty before she totally wrecks this command," the man stated, the pom- pom bobbing on his shoulder.

Biting his lip, Jack got to his feet. "Yes sir. I'll go talk to her right now." He retreated swiftly and closed the door behind him. Oh god, what had he done? Who would have thought a few innocent little 

Squaring his shoulders he headed off towards level 21 and the knitting capitol of the SGC.

<><><><><>

Exiting the elevator he couldn't help but stare at the large number of people walking the halls, each of their uniforms accessorized with a Carter Creation.

Major Coburn was sporting a bright red beret on his head. Technician Davis was wearing a green and purple striped sweater vest. Jack saw Doctor Warner's stethoscope shrouded with a neon blue cover and Sergeant Siler walked by, his favorite wrench tucked securely in it's custom made day glow pink wrench warmer.

"O'Neill!" Jack turned to see Teal'c striding towards him, a mountain of orange atop a bed of olive drab green.

"T? What's…?"

"O'Neill, this is unacceptable," the Jaffa said, stopping before him.

"Unacc…"

"If I were on Chulak I would have been stoned for being a kata'mahl," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Kata what?"

"Orange is not a warrior's color," he said, his voice full of meaning.

"Ooh, well I'm sure…"

"And it does not end there." Teal'c unbuttoned a small flap on his sweater to reveal his pouch. He stuck a hand in and pulled Junior out, resplendent in a tiny hot pink sweater that even had tiny slits in it to accommodate the creature's fins. The symbiote hissed then moved pathetically as it tried to rid itself of the offending garment. "My primta is the laughing stock if its race. Pink is not a god, even a false god's color," Teal'c said tightly, stroking the creature to calm it.

"Yeah I can imagine…"

"O'Neill, you must rectify this situation," he begged.

"Look…why the hell don't you guys just say no?"

"When was the last time you successfully denied Major Carter?"

"Aah…well…"

"She weeps O'Neill."

"Weeps…Carter? Our Carter? The arm wrestling queen of Colorado?"

"And if weeping does not prevail she turns to using our emotions against us."

"Using…ooh, a guilt trip? Yeah those can be rough."

"O'Neill, this can not continue."

"Yeah, Ok. Let me talk to her," Jack placated, trying to calm the Jaffa before the man turned to violence.

Teal'c nodded. "I will be in my quarters."

Jack walked down the call, passing more and more people who'd been 'Cartered'. Damn, he'd only been gone two weeks. How the hell could she do this in two weeks?

"No Sam. I can't." he heard Janet protest from Sam's lab.

"Oh come on Janet. It'll keep them nice and warm."

"NO. This is ridiculous."

Jack walked in to see Sam holding up her latest inventions. "You always complain that the cool mountain air makes things uncomfortable. These should eliminate the problem," she said holding the knitted bra to her chest. "See, no more high beam if they're all nice and toasty warm."

Jack watched the petite doctor turn a nice bright shade of red that actually would be quite becoming with the black bra and panty set on display. "Sam I…"

"Hello ladies," Jack interrupted.

"Colonel. You're back!" Sam exclaimed, hopping off the stool and stepping over a half-built reactor lying on the floor. "Did you have a nice vacation?" she asked, setting the bra down and pulling open a drawer. As she started to rummage through a pile of knitted things, Janet pushed past Jack, her heels clicking as she ran from the room.

"Oh just peachy. So major, I hear things have been a little slow lately?" he asked, looking at the shelves full of gadgets, most of them covered with a fine coating of dust and yarn lint.

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed," she said, her voice muffled.

"Look, Hammond and I had a little talk…"

"Did he like his sweater? I know I messed up one of the sleeves but I can fix that…"

"Ooh he's aah…well I know he's never owned anything like it. Umm look…about the knitting…"

"Oh colonel. I never realized just how empty my life was. All I ever did was work, work, work...saved the world a few times but…this is fantastic. Thanks to you I have a hobby. It's been so great. And I owe it all to you," she said happily, pulling things out as if she was looking for something.

"Yeah, that was what I was going…"

"Found it!" she stood up triumphantly, waving something in the air. She hopped towards him and held it up against his chest. "Perfect. I just knew it would fit," she said proudly. "Put it on."

"What? NO. I'm…"

"You don't like it?" she asked, frowning, her lower lip starting to quiver.

"Yes…no…I…it's warm in here."

"Oh you don't have to keep it on. I just want to see what it looks like. Turquoise is your color." He started to push it away, then took a peek at her face, her eyes filling with tears. With a sigh he slipped it on.

"It fits!" she exclaimed. "I knew it." she clapped happily while Jack stood there, feeling like a complete doofus. "Just a minute, this is the best part."

She stepped away and snapped off the light, plunging the room into darkness.

"Carter? What the?"

"Just look at this." She steered him towards a large mirror that was propped against one of her computers. Jack stared in amazement at the image of a large glow in the dark bulls eye knitted into the material that shone like a beacon in the dark room.

"See sir. We'll be able to find you now day or night. And here, I did this one just for you." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small object also knitted from the glow in the dark yarn.

"What the hell is this?" he asked, taking the small oblong shaped object from her.

"It's for your sidearm sir."

<><><><><>

With a strangled cry Jack sat up, knocking the bag of chips and the TV remote off his chest and onto the floor.

Gasping for air, he felt his chest, relieved to find only the cotton material of his t- shirt. Desperately he checked his watch. NO. It hadn't happened yet. His vacation started tomorrow.

Feeling a cold sweat break out he flashed back to his nightmare. Dear God, what had he done?

The next day he stood outside Carter's lab, peeking around the corner. To his relief he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Reactor parts still littered the work surface and there wasn't a bit of yarn to be seen.

"Colonel. Did you need something?" He turned to see Sam walking towards him, a bag clutched in one hand.

"Aah no…well really yeah," he said, following her in.

She set her stuff down and turned to face him, her expression cool, just like it had been the past several days since the NID stormed her home. "What can I do for you sir?" she asked politely, too politely. Evidentially she was still mad at him, good.

"I aah..I wanted to apologize."

"Sir?"

"For what I said in the briefing room, about you needing a hobby," he prodded.

"Ooh. There's no need to apologize sir. I'm sure you had my best interests at heart," she answered sweetly.

"No. Well we did but…things are fine just the way they are. NO need to do curling, or knitting, especially knitting. You can…here play with this." He picked up something and shoved it into her hands.

"Sir? Are you feeling all right?"

"Yeah. Fine. Perfectly all right. You aah…you just do whatever you want with your free time, tinker all you want. NO need for a hobby. OK?" He asked desperately.

"Sure sir, whatever you want," she replied skeptically, eyeing him like she would a goa'uld at her threshold.

"Good. So we're...great…yeah great. Thanks major." He fled the room.

She watched him leave, a frown on her face. Okaaayyyyy. That was strange. She sat down and opened her bag, pulling out a pile of yarn.

"I wonder what he has against knitting?" she asked aloud as she started another row. "I just hope he gets over it by Christmas or we're both going to be mad," she whispered as she started to count her stitches. "Knit one, pearl two…He is going to love this, Turquoise is definitely his color."

**The End**

  


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> This lovely piece of silliness was inspired by the SG-1 Fans chat last Saturday…and then aided by a long, boring Sunday with crummy television. Thanks to Sam for the help and the title and to everyone in the chat who unwittingly helped birth this little sucker.  
> 

* * *

> October, 2001  
> © The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp.  
> The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters  
> who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names,   
> titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television,   
> Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd.   
> Partnership.  
> This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and   
> solely meant for entertainment.   
> All other characters, the story idea and the story itself   
> are the sole property of the author.   
> 

* * *

  



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